


Impact

by Ivycat



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Action/Adventure, Deep Space Nine - Freeform, Gen, Growth, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivycat/pseuds/Ivycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a routine mission Dr. Bashir and Dax are in a shuttle accident after colliding with a asteroid that is not a asteroid. Beamed off the shuttle and separated, Jadzia fights for her life while the fate of her companion is unknown. Set after second season. Will contain descriptions of medical emergencies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impact

Disclaimer - All rights to Star Trek DS9 belongs to Paramount.

Impact by Ivycat

Words. They had always been his friends, the blue suited figure in the runabout mused. A hedge with which he could surround himself,a comforting torrent when he was nervous. Now, they proved to be as fickle as a Dabo girls affection. They jilted him when he most needed them, when his heart was the fullest.

It was a perverse fate that had put him in such close proximity to Jadzia, when he had only just determined to cease being the love sick boy.

He was smart, Damn it, smarter than anyone on the station, but around her, one would never have guessed.

'Amusing.' That was what he had overheard himself described as.

Amusing. The description rankled. He was almost sure that he had overheard 'arrogant' as well.

He worked the controls effortlessly, almost flawlessly. His face a mask at the moment, betraying none of the turmoil inside. He sat in silence for hours, not looking at the fellow figure in blue beside him in the cramped confines of the runabout. But soon the restless silence surrounding him was snapped like a brittle twig. There was a shrill beeping from the console. He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the readout.

"Asteroid directly ahead!"

"Raise shields." Dax replied, her fingers dancing over panel in front of her.

"Shields up."

Bashir leaned forward slightly, some instinct prompting him to look out window in front of him. His eyes widened and his breath hitched.

"Dax! Brace…" He never got a chance to finish the alert.

There was a head filling cacophony as the exterior of the runabout made contact with a chunk of icy rock .

The occupants were thrown around the shuttle mercilessly as the shield was assaulted. Steam began to vent into the shuttle from a ruptured hose filling it, obscuring the prone figures, through the haze a lone light began to blink. The proximity alert flashed once, twice, dimmed and gave a last halfhearted glimmer, then went dark.

The Rio Grande floated in an aimless manner, rotating slowly in the emptiness.

It was thick, too thick. She rubbed her eyes trying to clear them, coughing as she inhaled acrid fumes. She blinked trying to escape the thick oppressing blackness. Nothing helped. Still coughing she pulled her shirt up over her mouth, then she tried to stand up, she swayed on unsteady feet and winced as she made contact with the runabout seat. With her head. The shuttle was inverted.

She let out a breathe and tried to orient herself. "I am Jadzia Dax." That was a good place to start. "My arms work…" She flexed them slowly. She already knew her legs worked, no matter how unsteadily. She stumbled toward the upside down panel trying to activate lights, sensors, something. The Trill's calm manner was in evidence as she methodically attempted to restore some type of system function, but all of her efforts were in vain and the shuttle was still dark.

Her next move was to find her silent companion. It was not a long task as it was a small shuttle, indeed no sooner than she had formed the resolution to find him her foot landed on one of his limbs with her full weight . Muttering an apology she knelt down beside him, her slender hands searching and probing to find injury. There was no evidence of injury, the still figure was warm and breathing. Sitting back Jadzia assessed the situation, all emergency supplies we located under the floor of the runabout, now well above her head. Unconscious doctor beside her… Suddenly she bent over Julian again, her hands fumbling with the ever present tricorder that was on his belt. Flipping it open she let out a small coughing breath of relief, the small patch of light seemed as welcoming as the sun on the Trill home world. Julian's breathing was soft and regular and life signs steady. It seemed as if the young doctor had only sustained a blow to the head that had temporarily rendered him unconscious. She stood up, once more attempting to reach the medkit and emergency supplies but they were out of reach, she could not obtain them unaided. With a sigh she slowly made her way to the doctor, one more scan showed he was still stable. She reluctantly turned off the device to save power. Now surrounded by the darkness she pulled at her collar uncomfortably, for all the effortless ease with which she wore the uniform Jadzia had always despised tight collars. She shifted uncomfortably, her hand pressing over the symbiont . Then a groan sounded from the blackness.

"Kukkalaka."

Jadzia smiled faintly at the memory the word brought up.

"Julian?"

She felt forward in the darkness attempting to reach for his hand, but a shrill yelp and her fingers told her she had made contact with his nose instead.

"Oh, sorry about that."

Even in the darkness the smile was evident in her voice.

"Jadzia… uh, what happened to the lights?"

"I don't know right now, we hit something, lost attitude control, we are drifting inverted at the moment. The artificial gravity seems to have malfunctioned and reversed and is producing graviton particles with a polarity shift. I can't reach the control panel. Life support seems to be functioning at the moment. Plasma leak on starboard side."

There was a moment of silence and a rustling as he sat himself up.

"I lost my tricorder." There was an edge to his voice.

"No, here, I borrowed it to see it you were hurt. And also to see if I could use the light to help me reach the control panel."

Jadzia grasped the hard case and pushed it forward in the darkness. His warm hand closed over hers for an instant as he took it. The blackness abated somewhat as he opened it. Jadzia involuntarily leaned in toward the light. In the dim light she could see a dark line along the side of his face. Seeing her gaze he reached his hand up and gingerly touched his scalp.

"Hmm," he said dispassionately, "I seem to have a minor scalp laceration."

Then seconds later he was directing the scanner to his crewmate.

"Any pain or tenderness?" She furrowed her brow and gave him an impatient look.

"I was just rolled around the inside of a runabout following an impact. I could give you a shorter list of what does NOT hurt."

"Ah, yes, that's a good point."

"Julian?"

"Yes?"

"You need to save the battery on your tricorder."

"Good idea." He snapped it shut quickly, and then scooted over to the side of the shuttle Jadzia was leaning on.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"I was hoping you would have some brilliant plan. So far I have nothing, we have to be able to reach the control panel, see why so many systems are down, make sure we have enough life support, send a distress signal, access our emergency packs, restore lighting…" Her voice trailed off.

"And how do you suggest we proceed?" His voice was strong, professional.

"Well, at the moment I would say take a few minutes to asses then formulate a plan."

"All right, that's a plan."

She could feel him sitting close even though she could not see. The Trill found it comforting, a moment later and she reached out her hand to search for his.

"What?"

His voice was startled, she had grabbed his elbow.

"Sorry, I was reaching for your hand."

"Not a problem." He assured her, and in an instant his warm hand had clasped her cool one.

"Well, it is a good thing I have never been scared of the dark." He quipped.

There was a long silence.

"Jadzia?"

"Hmm."

"Are you about to tell me you are afraid of the dark?"

"No, "She lied easily with a laugh. "I am a trill Julian, remember? The symbiont lives in dark caves underground remember." She repressed a small shudder.

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten."

"Well, Jadzia, shall we get to it?"

"What?"

"You yourself said we had to reach the control panel. That endeavor will require the two of us, I propose you stand on my back and reach the comm. "

"Alright," she agreed after a pause. There was a firm tug to her hand as he rose, pulling her with him. He took a few steps forward.

"Julian? Where are you going? The front is this way."

"Um, yes, sorry. The darkness has me slightly disoriented."

"Alright, can you climb on my back, Jadzia?"

"Climb from what?" Jadzia replied in a maddeningly reasonable tone. "We are standing on the roof."

"I see your point, well, what if you get on my shoulders then I attempt to stand up?"

"That should work."

She maneuvered to get close to him when,

"OW, Jadzia! You are standing on my hand!"

"Oh, sorry."

She straightened up quickly catching him under the chin with the crown of her head causing his teeth to clack sharply.

"JAD.. ZI.. A!"

The tension of their situation began to tell as she fought back a small giggle.

"Stop laughing, it is not funny! I am a doctor, Jadzia. A doctor who has peoples' lives in his HANDS that depend on him to save them. My hands are one of my greatest tools!"

" I am sorry, Julian,you are right." She said penitently.

She slowly clambered onto his back, wincing sympathetically as Julian hissed as a knee dug into his back.

She sat up slowly,

"I need light,"

"Well, it would have been nice if you had decided that before we got started." He stated though gritted teeth.

He ever so delicately reached down and fumbled with the device trying to access it without dislodging Jadzia.

"Any chance you could hurry?"

"Of course there is, if you don't mind me dropping you. This is not nearly as easy as it may seem to you up there."

"Easy!" Jadzia gave an un-lady like snort.

Then there was a soft whirring as the tricorder muted light shed a dim illumination.

"There, how is that?"

"Better thank you… Let me see here, first I need to reach there… now… OK, Julian, I am about to power it on to regain attitude control. "

There was a beeping and a satisfying whirr as the panel above them glowed, then, very slowly, the shuttle rotated causing Bashir to lose his footing and stagger, dropping Jadzia onto a seat, which was now in its rightful place.

"Hey!"

Julian's face broke into a grin as he surveyed the shuttle; he walked towards the pilot seat, extending a hand to Jadzia who was rising from the seat where she had landed.

Then with a slight popping sound the panel went dark again.

"No!" Julian smacked the back of his seat with his palm.

"Did you get a chance to send out a distress call?"

Before she could reply there were slight rustling noises, then another pop. Just as he was opening his mouth to ask what was going on, Jadzia activated an emergency light. The shuttle was bathed in bright light one more, seeming to do battle with the darkness outside.

"Ah, that's better!"

He sat in the seat and turned towards his companion.

His brow wrinkled,

"Did you happen to see a ship after we collided?"

She looked up, startled.

"No, why?"

"Because, I could have sworn I saw one right before impact."

Jadzia's brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you sure it was not a result of you hitting your head?"

"Yes, very."

He looked at her, affronted at the question.

She opened her mouth to say more but suddenly a transporter beam shimmered into the shuttle, giving them only enough time to exchange startled looks before they de-materialized.


	2. Alone

Jadzia opened her eyes. She saw dusty feet all around her, suddenly remembering her abduction she sat up quickly and looked around her. She was surrounded with females of every species; some were foreign to her, a thing that did not often happen to Dax after so many lives.   
They were all tired and worn looking; from the thinning hair and various degrees of emaciation, she could see that they were malnourished. Some were positively skeletal, their clothes hanging from them in rags. The stink of starvation was palpable in the dusty air.

None seemed interested in her, avoiding eye contact when she looked at them. Very few children were to be seen, and they too were underweight. It was hot, the kind of suffocating heat that shimmered and distorted far away objects, making them seem as if they were being viewed through a silk curtain. Two twin suns blazed in the orange sky.  
She scrambled to her feet and brushed her hair out of her face, weaving unsteadily for a moment, the transporter had thrown off her equilibrium, and then she started to make a slow circuit around the fence that hemmed her in. It was a sizable enclosure, but not large enough to hold all the prisoners. It was a simple metal fence, but there was a tell tale humming, a prickling of her skin when she got close. It was charged with a very high current. Crude but effective.

But why was she here? Where was Julian? Were these the only people here? She scanned the area; there were no men in sight. She took a steadying breath.

One of her questions was answered as a shrill whistle sounded and large wooden gates creaked open and a larger group of women flooded in looking, if possible, dirtier and more ragged than the group she was with. The eddy of flesh caused her to be pressed towards the fence, fearing being crushed into the security field she began to fight using her elbows and feet to clear a space. With one particularly vicious thrust she freed herself and tried to find a safer place where she was in less danger of being crushed. This turned out to be next to a group of gaunt Klingons. They were more than gaunt she saw, observing closer, they were emaciated, their heads seeming to be too large for the neck to support, their eyes dead. They eyed her with a dull sullenness that was more chilling to the Trill than the fact she was imprisoned in a holding pen. What could have happened that had reduced them to such despair? How long they must have been held to reduce them to this condition she did not want to speculate.  
A cold knot of fear twined its way into her stomach.

The suns began to set with no provisions being offered. While the lessening of the heat was a relief Jadzia was still very aware of her thirst. She toured the confines; it was a crude corral, made of scraps of metal. As darkness fell Jadzia could see the inmates lying down in random places, there were no bed materials, the women just lay where they wished. Her legs weary with wandering around she sat down and clutched her knees to herself. 

“Move!” She looked up startled to see who had barked the order; it was the tallest in the group of Klingons.   
“I don’t think so.” She replied looking them up and down.

“Well, isn’t this a brave one!” The tallest turned towards her companions, they laughed unpleasantly.

“We shall see how long she lasts, this mannerless female! I say less than two weeks.”

There was another burst of laughter as they grouped tighter around her. One of them prodded her with her shoeless foot.  
“Did you not hear us? Are you deaf? We said move, we require your spot.”

“Did you not hear me?” Jadzia responded roundly.

“I said no, go find someone else to intimidate.”

She looked up at them squarely, unafraid.  
There was no attention given to this exchange by any other of the inmates, conflicts happened all the time. The lucky ones died.  
Suddenly she was jerked to her feet by a Klingon. Without hesitation Jadzia threw the assailant off of her and on her back and bent over the prostrate form. It was absurdly easy, there was almost no weight to the woman she threw, and she had used every ounce of strength she was accustomed to using in the holosuit programs. There was an enraged growl from the rest of the gang surged towards them.

“I said find somewhere else to sit you, spawn of a toothless targ!” Jadzia cursed them in flawless Klingonese, her epithets calling in question their descent and the honor of their houses.   
The group of hostile women hesitated in the advance, astonished at being accosting in their native language. They looked at each other, and then the leader held up her hand.

“You speak our language well. How did this come about?”

Jadzia took a step back, releasing her attacker.

“I have spent time in company with Klingons in the past.”

They looked at her with grudging respect. Clearly her outburst had impressed them, 

“Come, sit with us.”  
Jadzia sat down, avoiding openly staring at the hollow cheeks of the faces, at the glaringly protruding forehead ridges.

“Where are we?’

“We do not know.”

“Who are our captors, why are we here?”

“We know little, we were on a ship traveling to Tirell when suddenly we hit an asteroid, our ship was crippled, and we lost power in all systems except life support. We drifted for two days before we were transported off of our ship and arrived here.”  
“We clear land of stones and trees and quarry stones. If you do not work, you are beaten. The Breen are in charge of this camp, though we do not think they are native to this land. The Breen are notorious for being for hire. They are cowards with no honor.”

Jadzia looked up, “That is much the same tale as happened to us. I was traveling with a companion, where is he? Why are there no men here?” 

“We do not know, we never have seen males of any species, other than the Breen, though we do not have any way of knowing their sex.”

“What happens now?”

“Nothing for a while, it is the rest period. Rest, conserve your strength as much as you can, you will need it. When the sun begins to rise we will be chosen to go to fields or quarry, we have no way to be sure but it seems as if it is eighteen of your standard Earth hours we are laboring. If we are not singled out for punishment we will receive rations, meager ones. “

“What happens if you don’t go out to work?”

“You are not fed. Then you are beaten.” Was the simple reply.

Despite the blazing heat of earlier, a chill began to creep over Jadzia, she squinted up at the almost black sky; this planet was only heated when facing the suns. She realized she could expect the temperature to drop further as the night went on, this was confirmed as she saw the prisoners scooping up the loose sand and pouring it over themselves, having a primitive blanket to shield them from the imminent cold. Her companions had already started digging themselves in. Jadzia quickly followed suit, and none too soon, the temperature had dropped to the point it was hard to feel her fingers.  
By the time she had finished covering herself with sand the Klingon women beside her were deeply sleep, their snores giving testament to their fatigue.  
But for Jadzia sleep did not come the first night, it was spent squinting at the stars attempting to divine a pattern in them, some familiar constellation to act as a compass to guide her home. There was none.

The cold began to permeate the sand, causing her to shake and shiver in her hole in the ground. The uncertainty was maddening, the not knowing where she was, why she was here, where her companion was, why they had been separated. Her mind was racing, she began to feel slightly nauseous from thirst she became aware of a sticky sensation in her mouth, it was most uncomfortable, she wished day would come, it almost seemed as if the situation would be easier to bear if there was light, some other sound than the faint humming of the fence and the soft cries of prisoners whimpering in their sleep.

She was not used to feeling uncertain. That was the very opposite of who she, Jadzia, was. She was confident, that was her trademark, her birthright after so many lives lived. She had very rarely been in a situation she did not know how to handle since being joined. But none of her previous hosts had any experience with being captured and held on an unknown planet.   
The night stretched out almost unendurably. Then, almost imperceptibly a faint ribbon of light glimmered on the horizon. 

A loud siren sounded shill and demanding in the pre-light and the lumps beneath the sand began to move, coming to the surface and shedding sand as the stepped towards the gate in a ragged, uneven line. A hand grasped her arm. 

“Stay with us.”

It was the Klingon woman from the night before, she opened her mouth to express thanks but a repressive looks caused the words to die on her lips.  
There were approaching figures, Breen.  
They swung open the gate and slowly the prisoners shuffled forward where a Breen flicked his hand left or right causing two groups to form, Jadzia hesitated, uncertain, but the masses behind her pushed her forward, then she was pushed, stumbling and staggering to the group on the right . Most of the group of Klingon’s joined as well. She fervently hoped that water would be offered soon, but the sorting still continued. A Vulcan woman joined their group; she gazed at Jadzia impassively, and then seemed to loose interest. Almost unbelievably quickly the heat began to blaze down causing Jadzia’s skin to tingle unpleasantly. Then a shout rang out over the group and they began to shuffle forward, it was an uncomfortable trek, it must have been almost a kilometer when they came upon a deep pit in the ground, everything surrounding them was coated with a powdery white dust, this must be the quarry.

A rag-tag line formed and she could see equipment being passed out to the women in front of her.  
When her turn came she was given a shovel and directed towards a tunnel on the right side.   
To her relief the Klingon leader followed her. The tunnel was dimly lit, most of the torches had burned out, and this caused a moment of concern as she considered the possibility of carbon monoxide.  
She kept walking till the tunnel began to lower causing her to stoop to continue.   
Then abruptly, the passage ended.

“Now we dig.” It seemed as if the Klingon had decided to take Jadzia under her wing.

“Where?”

She was given an impatient look, it was clear the woman regarded her as slow. She motioned to the end of the tunnel and began wielding her pick, burying it deep in the soft chalky rock. 

Jadzia followed her example and was surprised at how easily her tool slid into the rock, but it proved to be almost impossible to pull out. Several times Jadzia tried to ask questions of her companion but she was resolutely ignored. Soon it became apparent why, there was a groan behind her, she turned to see a Bajoran woman sliding down the wall of the tunnel overcome by exhaustion and malnutrition, Jadzia took a step to assist her despite the Klingons hissed warning, she bent over her, but a sudden searing pain across her back caused her to arch and yelp. A suited figure struck her again and struck her once more, she staggered back and was met by the Klingon shoving the tool back in her hands ands and pushing her forcibly to the spot where she had been digging previously. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the fallen woman being dragged away, her head lolling to the side.

After this she stayed in her place and did not look at any disturbances. There was one five minute break when they were allowed to go relieve themselves. There was no food or water offered. She began to feel light headed from thirst.

After a day that seemed to stretch into infinity a shrill whistle sounded, wearily the Klingon stood up and started out the way she came. Jadzia followed.  
They surrendered the mining instruments as they exited the mine. Jadzia followed the line that seemed to be shuffling with slightly more animation now. Then she saw it, it was a small station distributing food and water. But as she approached she saw a sight that as thirsty and hungry as she was, almost caused her to step out of the line.   
It was the Bajoran woman, she had evidently been left out in the brutal heat for hours, her face was pinched, her face scarlet, cracked and oozing, eyes wide and staring. Jadzia could only hope the poor woman was dead, but as she was close enough to step over the body it blinked. She stopped in her tracks, her mind refusing to grasp what she was seeing, not wanting to believe it. Then she received a push from behind, she narrowly missed stepping on the women. Then it was her turn in line, she was given a piece of hard bread-like materiel and a cup containing less than eight ounces of water, she gazed at it for a moment in dismay, she knew his would not be able to sustain Trill life for long. But she still turned and made a half step towards the fallen woman, only to be pulled along in the iron grasp of her mentor. A Breen caught the slight step out of line and used the butt end of his weapon to club her on the side of her head. Jadzia stumbled back in the line dazed and disorientated. The woman gestured that she drink. Most of her water had spilled. The water and bread tasted metallic.

All too soon it was gone and she was trudging in a line back to the holding pen. As tired as she was she could only guess how much worse it had been to be out in the heat all day laboring to clear fields. She felt a rush of gratitude to the Klingon women who had obviously taken pains to make sure she was working in the tunnels.   
Once in the enclosure she sought out the women again.  
This time she did not have to initiate conversation.

“You will be drug to the surface and left to die an excruciating death from exposure if you keep acting weak and faltering.”

“Helping others may be a Federation trait, but here, it will get you killed.”

Jadzia did not respond for a second, unbidden the face of the dying Bajoran woman rose before her, her throat spasmed briefly, she felt nauseous.   
“Why do they use manual labor? Surely machines would be more efficient at clearing than workers are.” 

She changed the subject, pushing aside the guilt that was twining up around her like diseased ivy.  
The smallest Klingon grunted, 

“It is the dust from the rock; it finds its way into the machines and ruins them.”

“Have you ever tried to escape?”  
They exchanged guarded looks.

“Once, but after two days of being left out in the desert alone as an example I decided to try and find another way to escape, besides, I did not want to leave here knowing our captors were alive.”  
Jadzia nodded.

“You need to stop these foolish questions, dig your shelter while there is light and warmth in the sand. Tomorrow you will be in the fields; you will need to conserve all of your strength for that. “

There was no denying the exhaustion that clouded her head and caused her thinking to slow, it felt oppressive, as if there was an entity that was somehow stealing a part of her. Her lash marks smarted and pulled with every movement causing her to wince as she dug.  
This night she fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes and dreamed of soft brown eyes and a boyish smile.

The following day was a nightmare; the welts on her back were gritty with the sand that had worked its way in during the night, she was beaten for stumbling, for not pulling a stump quickly enough, for being too slow to get to her feet after the rest period was over.   
The suns blazed down, she lost track over how many women collapsed and were drug away that day. One was a Klingon. Her hands became raw but she was afraid to stop to tear strips from her sleeves to protect them. Heat rose up like a living thing to assault those on the surface. Jadzia longed for the relative comfort of the mines.  
By the end of the day her back was a mass of criss crossed wounds, her uniform was shredded. To add insult to injury she was singled out of the ration line by an armed guard. It seemed that she was still to be punished by being denied sustenance. 

Her tongue was thick from dehydration, her hands began to shake. A raging need constantly gnawed at her, tinting every thought. She stumbled to her accustomed spot, too tired to dig a hole, fearing infection of the wounds. She wished for the reassuring whirr of a tricorder and a calm confident doctor to tell her she was going to be fine.  
The Klingon group approached, they were one short. They did not speak, though softly, late in the numbingly cold night she heard them chanting the Death Chant.  
On this night she thought of her companion, of rescue parties and replicators, anything to keep her mind off the pain and thirst. This brought her back to the question of where Julian was, of what happened to him, though she was sure judging by how the females were treated he was faring even worse.   
Her eye became oddly moist considering how she craved moisture, and then she realized the stinging in her eyes produced no tears.  
She sternly ordered the weakness away; she knew it was imperative that she conserve fluids. Then exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep, but woke later, shivering in the cold, too stiff to dig, too cold to sleep. Tonight she was learning an important lesson, no matter how badly she felt, she must always prepare shelter before the night. She found herself fantasizing about the sound of rain on Trill, how it had surrounded her with a blanket of sound as it beat on the roof. With that thought on her mind she slept.

 

Soon the days blurred into each other, the planet kept turning, scorching days, freezing night, her defenses began to wear down, and she did not ever think she would see her home again. Beatings were a daily occurrence. She began to suffer from joint pain, stomach and back pain. Tomorrow was always too distant for her to contemplate now; her thoughts were centered on surviving the present moment she endured. She frequently became disoriented and confused; she did not remember when her mentor disappeared or what happened to her. Then there was only one of the group left. She began to cease being preoccupied where Julian was, where the rescue party was, how long she had been there, her life was a struggle to survive the suns. Her skin cracked and oozed, walking became almost impossible because of her growing weakness, but at least the thirst was gone. 

The days she was lucky she was assigned to the tunnels and had some respite from the heat. It never rained on this planet.


	3. Confusion

After a few minutes of deep breathing to compose himself, Julian rolled over and opened his eyes. 

He was on a simple mat of some kind, and in a medical facility of some sort.   
His brow furrowed, he last remembered being on the runabout with Dax, stranded.

‘Dax!’ He sat up abruptly, looking around for her.

He was in a curtained cubical, the air permeated with disinfectant, outside was pandemonium, people were being pushed around on gurneys, frantic groups around beds, orders being shouted… this was very much a hospital, or at the very least a triage center. 

Instinctively he staggered to his feet and toward the bed closest to him, it held a old man, pulling out his tricorder he scanned him, Broken leg that had been set, although very crudely. He seemed to be under the influence of a numbing narcotic, he was asleep.  
Flipping the tricorder closed he began to infiltrate the crowd calling for Jadzia as he scanned faces, but his voice was lost in the shouts and cries that surrounded him. At one point he was pulled out of his search with a brusque command to hold down a patient while his shoulder was being relocated. He did so, and then tried to get answers from the physician as to where he was and what happened, where was his companion?

He was brushed off and told to sit quietly till a Registar came to log him in, they would have any information on his companion, then the unhelpful physician hurried off toward the sound of screams as another writhing patent was brought in. 

Julian slowly backed away towards a wall, observing what was around him. Most of the patients were workers, brawny, heavily muscled and in torn and sweaty clothes, if he had to guess he would have said they were miners or builders of some kind. There was a diverse group of species represented here, though most seemed humanoid. They were all male to the best of his knowledge, all except a few of the medical staff. This seemed to give credence to the work site accident theory he had.   
After waiting for about five minutes till another crisis was attended to he got up again and began to mingle with the crowd searching for the blue eyes and spotted skin of Jadzia. Fighting panic he began to walk faster with an ever increasing sense of urgency. He accosted a worker passing, attempting to catch his sleeve and get answers but it was if he was not even there. 

Again his search was halted, he was walking by and heard a man pleading for help, always the healer he turned towards the man, seeing that his make shift tourniquet had loosened, in a instant Julian was beside him reassuring him as he tightened down the trips of material. He frowned as he realized he needed to stay by the man’s side to ensure it did not slip again, Julian had never encountered this particular species, but in a human a nearly severed limb was deadly if not tended to.

“What happened?” Julian’s voice was low, comforting as he sought answers from the man.

“Brace gave way” the man gritted out “took the whole west wall down, no time to evacuate.”

“Ah,” said Julian trying to look less confused than he was.

“Were there many injured?”

The man moaned and looked at him in a strained way.

“Not sure.”

This man needed some anesthetic; Julian searched the crowd for the lavender color that seemed to indicate nurses.

“We will find someone who can get this fixed up for you soon, you will feel better soon.”

As soon as he spotted one he reached out and put a hand on a passing nurse.

“Excuse me, this man needs immediate attention, he has critical blood loss and is in pain.” His voice was clipped and authoritative.

“Yes doctor, right away.” She stated then her eyes widened as she took in his Federation uniform.

“You are not a doctor here,” she stated with suspicion. 

“Yes I am,” he snapped, “I was transported here along with my companion, I am a doctor with the Federation. And no, I do not belong here, as soon as this man gets attention I demand on seeing someone in charge. Kidnapping is a serious offence.”

With a last appraising glance, she nodded and turned on her heel, Julian hoped it was to bring help; it was torture to be next to a patient in such pain and not be able to do anything but hold his hand. He began to ask questions trying to keep the man alert.  
“Can you tell me where we are?”

“Asteroid 734, work site 4.”

“Were you born here?”

“No,” the man’s breathing became labored as he fought the pain.

“I was born on Tellgur , came here to work on the construction, pays better than on my planet, though it is hotter than Vulcan here.”

“ I see.”

The man begin to slip out of consciousness just as the nurse brought a doctor who administered the pain killer then began to fill out forms, actual paper forms which seemed necessary to getting the man into a surgical bay.

“This man does not have the time to wait. He needs to get help now.”

“I can see that, but we don’t have any available medical bays. He will have to wait till we have an opening.” He looked at Julian not unsympathetically.

“You said you were a doctor?”

“Yes.” Julian said, still holding the hand of the now unconscious man.

“My companion and I were kidnapped off our shuttle, I was brought here.”

A slight frown appeared on the forehead of the doctor, this was not wholly unexpected then, he had known of things like this happening before, though it was plain he did not approve.

“I see.” He studied Julian closer.

“You said you were a Federation doctor?”

“Yes, yes I am.” He put a slight emphasis on the last word not appreciating the use of his occupation in the past tense.

“Well, at the moment you could be a great help, we have had a bit of an emergency situation here as you can see. You will find that our medicine is not as advanced as yours but we still do what we can. We can get this sorted out after we have tended to all the patents. What do you say?”

“Of course I will be happy to help any way I can, but I am very concerned about my companion, a woman, could you help me find her?”

“I will do whatever I can to help, though more than likely she is here somewhere in the confusion. Will you help?”

“Of course, where would you like me to go?” Julian relented.

“Follow me.”

The following hours were a haze of him fixing injured and broken patents with only the most basic of supplies. It was laughable that he had once considered DS9 as “Real frontier medicine.” This was frontier medicine. Treating broken bones with minimal sedation, no bone regeneration, no epoxy casts, only wooden or metal splints. No tissue regenerators, just trying to clean a wound and sew the flaps of skin to cover if needed, and hope with desperation that it did not become infected. During the time he was working various nurses and staff presented him with females who were unidentified, every time he shook his head his heart sank a little deeper.

After five hours they insisted he take a break, but he waved off the offer of food and set off to search for Jadzia. He managed to work his way around the building, it was a domed building, most of the sides were glass and he could see similar buildings all around though in varying sizes. If he hazarded a guess he would have guess the smaller ones were dwellings. There were two suns causing the shadows to duplicate and wavier in a disconcerting way.  
He was filling with anger as he traversed the building a second time, this time trying the door. It refused to open to him, he ran his finger along the side of the door, feeling the unmistakable tingle of a force field, frowning he probed his fingers in a small crack, there was a electric shock and with a curse he pulled his hand back, not a force field then, those did not shock, But who would seal the doors to a hospital?  
The hospital took on a much grimmer aspect as he viewed it through the perspective of a prisoner. Pursing his lips he made his way back to the ward where he had been working previously. 

They were preparing to go back to go back to work, they motioned him to join them, but he shook his head and refused, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. All the critical patents had been tended to, Julian was officially on strike.

This earned him some curious glances but no one approached him about his refusal to join in. So he was left in the situation of standing immobile as the facility bustled around him. It was almost as stressful as not knowing what had happened to Jadzia.   
Then, being witness to a nurse unskillfully trying to maneuver a elbow into place and hearing the gasps of pain from the patent Julian could take no more, abandoning his former inaction he quickly stepped up to the bedside and curtly motioned for the woman to move aside, she did with no hesitation since she had seen his competent work earlier in the day. When that patent had been tended to he moved on to others, realizing his inability to stand by and let others suffer when he was able to help.

He kept busy well into the night, and then it was over, there were no more to help. Everyone looked at a loss for a minute, and then started trickling away.   
Sensing a presence Julian turned and saw the doctor who had recruited him standing closely beside him, too close, he took a step back to regain some personal space but the doctor took another step closing the gap.

“Did you find her?” His question was abrupt.

“I sent any I thought matched her description.”

“No, she was not among the women I saw, I thank you for your consideration.”

He raised his chin. “So now are you going to tell me where the hell I am and why I was abducted here?”

The doctor looked up at him; Julian had a good four inches on him.  
His eyes were weary Julian noted, focusing past the yellow irises.

“You had better follow me.” Was the reply.

He was directed to a small room, little more than a closet that a room, though it had a desk and two chairs. He sat in the one closest to him realizing how weary he was, his hand throbbed painfully from where Jadzia had crushed it with her boot.

“So, where am I, why were my friend and I abducted from our shuttle?”

The doctor leaned back.

“Friend, I will answer as I can. First, my name is Joissa. It always helps to know names, does it not?”

“Bashire, Doctor Julian Bashire, United Federation of Planets.”

“Well, Julian, my guess is that you must have strayed too close to our planet and a medical drone identified you as injured and transported you here. Your companion is probably at an orbital station working with authorities to find you.”  
“We are on asteroid 347, we, my species that is, the Crina, are colonizing this with the help of the Breen.”

“But how is it possible that a species with not even a dermal regenerator can have the advanced technology to have medical drones capable of transport?”  
Something was just not fitting together to Julian. Something sinister that he could not identify.

“Ah”, Joissa said,” that would because of the Breen, they share their technology with us, but of course the advancements go to industrial and engineering first. I expect we will see more advanced tools here soon.”

Though he spoke cheerfully enough his face was clouded. It seemed he was not happy with the priorities of the colony.

“So all I have to do is contact the authorities and I will be put into contact with my friend?”

“Well,” there was a noticeable hesitation. “It is not quite that simple, I am afraid that getting messages to the orbital stations takes time, as much as a week at times, transmission time here is very slow, well, at least to you it would be slow I am sure."  
Julian leaned forward and pinched his forehead. 

“When is the soonest we can send a message?”

“That would be tomorrow, as soon as the communicator office opens.”

“We can get you in first thing, I have some rest time available and I can take it to show you around.’

“Thank you.” Then another question occurred to him. 

“Why was the door locked, I tried it and it would not budge?”

Joissa looked surprised.   
“Why that is the first time I have heard of it, it must have been a malfunction.”

“Come with me, it has been a long day, let me show you your appreciation by sharing my dinner with you.”

As they left the hospital Julian noticed that the door slid open easily, he dismissed the incident as a coincidence, a fluke of new and therefore unstable technology. 

He was led to a smaller bio dome, he had been correct then, these were dwellings.  
Dinner was an uneventful, dull affair, it seemed to be a paste of roots, not particularly palatable but he managed to politely finish his serving though he refused seconds.  
Then he was handed a blanket and motioned to the couch in the living room, he hesitated, he would have preferred to have his own room in a rental building, but it seemed churlish to bring it up to his host after he had so graciously offered his hospitality.   
But after a moment he gave his polite smile and thanked him.  
The couch was firmer than he would like, but he was very tired.

He woke before his host and took the time to step outside and inspect his surroundings, the sky was orange.  
He was able to see his first Breen, it may have been his imagination, but it seemed that they were almost as interested in him as he was in them.   
But where as his interest was from curiosity, there’s seemed to stem from a more sinister perspective judging from the shifting of weapons to the ready pose.  
The message was clear. No matter how benign the doctor was, he was under surveillance, if not downright imprisonment.


	4. Desolation

The suns shimmered as the heat rose and shimmered off of the ground. It played cruel tricks with the bodies, causing them to appear to move as if living. Sunrise came suddenly here but it was quiet, the dead rested peacefully at last. 

The silence was disturbed by a sound of rushing wind; white dust billowed up fogging the landscape and partially covering the bodies, a fine film of dust that acted as a shroud to the corpses as a shuttle set down.

 

Hours earlier the Shuttle had been procured from salvage yard by two figures, but instead of the exchange of latinum the older of the two had handed off a stack of papers. They were taken with eagerness and quickly hidden under a uniform, then carefully skirting a Breen guard Julian had been taken to the shuttle. There was no time for more than a curt nod to his host before he was inside and powering up the engines. There was only a very limited window in which to achieve orbit while the sensor grid was down. That had cost him another sizable stack of his finely printed papers.

Bashir’s face was tense and lined as he took off, constantly checking the controls for any sign he had been detected, but surprisingly he achieved orbit with no sign of pursuit.   
Now was the hard part, he had to stay on the dark side of the moon to avoid sensor sweeps, it would be four long hours before he was supposed to get the signal to initiate landing on the hunk of rock .

Now that he had powered down there was nothing to do but wait. The darkness outside the shuttle pressed in on him making him feel isolated, alone.  
He leaned his lanky form back and closed his eyes, battling with himself, trying to justify his actions.

‘No one had to find out about it though, he rationalized, hadn’t he been successful at keeping his genetic enhancements secret, was this so much more different?’

‘Yes, he answered back with unflinching honesty, this was much, much different.’

His breath frosted in the air and he shivered as the shuttle grew cold, it was on minimal life support mode and the temperature would only continue to drop. Not enough to endanger him, but certainly cooler than was comfortable.  
He took a deep shuddering breath, unbidden the memory of the purple scrap of cloth blowing in the dust surfaced. He grimaced.  
That was what had set this betrayal in motion, a piece of purple cloth, or rather what the purple cloth had represented just a few seconds earlier.  
It had been a person, a living breathing entity, clad in the medical garb of the hospital Jossia worked at, he brought news of Jadzia. He had seemed nervous when he had pulled Julian aside as he walked home from the hospital after a day of working.  
He claimed he was a friend of Jossia’s, and that he could tell him where Jadzia had been detained. She was on a labor detail on an asteroid. Something that people did not survive for more than a few weeks at the most, he also had managed to give the location of the shuttle before a energy weapon connected with the man’s back, the informant arched, his mouth open in a split second of agony before he seemed to fold upon himself and vanish, leaving only a scrap of dusty purple cloth as a sign he had lived.

Bashir had tensed and sprung behind a tree, but to his surprise there had been no signs that he was being targeted, no soldiers looming above him where he crouched. Disoriented he had stood back up, looking down the street, there was no sign of the murder. Just a chattering group of shoppers farther down the street, either unaware or ignoring the incident that had just happened.  
After standing there collecting his thoughts exposed in the street in full view of anyone who might be waiting to attack him, he entered his hosts dwelling, a plan was forming, he did not share the news of the coworkers death, there was a far more important matter occupying his mind. 

After a time of mental turmoil he had set his course, the only thing that remained was to enact the plan, and break almost every rule in Starfleet…

Bashir shook his head and ruffled his hair. He had been precise. Writing out schematics to various medical devises, the formula to achieve a pollydurinite a substance that made everything from chairs and Dabo tables to wall panels. Vaccines and medications to numerous to mention. Tricorder schematics, Even basic replicator technology. In effect, everything that he thought would be valuable information.

Except weapons. Never weapons. He pushed aside the knowledge that much of the information he had given could be stepping stones to advanced tactical applications. Medicine formulas for painless sedation could be easily concentrated and used as a poison… He had in effect given the Krina technology over a decade more advanced than they were ready for  
. Maybe more. 

He tried to argue it was not as much of a violation of the prime directive at it seemed since the Breen had obviously been doing the same thing selectively for at least a decade.  
But it did little to assuage his guilt at what he had done, though, given the choice he knew he would do it all over again to be able to reach Jadzia. He had used the papers as his currency to get what he needed. The Krina were eager for new technology, he could sense a undercurrent of unease at their unequal playing field with the Breen, They were on a unequal footing with the Breen, with the Breen becoming dangerously close to the line of being an ‘occupying force’.  
And there was a percentage of them that were trying to find ways to stop the encroaching species, they were eager for technology, for anything that might give them more of an even footing.

He found his papers to be wildly valuable, more than he had hoped they would be. Enough to secure his shuttle, ensure certain well timed malfunctions of the detection grids, and have Jadzia removed to a secluded location away from the work camp. 

He would have liked to have had more medical supplies, but only the most basic supplies were procurable from the hospital. And those mostly consisted of liquid nutrients, thermal blankets and a few pillows and bandages. He would have to rely on the Starfleet issue medical supplies for the rest and hope they were enough. Luckily he had found them still intact, the shuttle had, to his surprise, not been scavenged. He even retained his tricorder.  
It would have to be enough. During the time he waited he spent his time going over Trill physiology, he knew that effects of malnutrition and dehydration would be greatly accelerated. He sat on the edge of the seat, nervously jiggling his leg as he waited for the time to pass. His heart was racing and he was radiating nervous energy.  
It was almost intolerable to be waiting this long.

 

But at last, there was a soft beeping indicating that the timer had started, he had nine minutes to land, pick up Jadzia and then reach orbit, after that the grid would reactivate and he would be detected.  
Nine minutes seemed tight when he factored in two minutes to land and three to take off, leaving him two hundred and forty seconds to locate and secure her in the shuttle.  
But what was the use of being genetically enhanced if he could not depend on his superior analytical skills and speed? Surely they had to make some sort of a difference.  
The shuttle whirred to life and began its accent, when finding the exact coordinates he set down, thick white dust billowed around the shuttle making it hard to see as he landed. He cursed, he could not afford the precious seconds that reduced visibility could cost him.

(Two hundred and thirty two seconds.)He mentally counted.

He sprang out the shuttle as soon as the door opened, choking on the powder fine particulates. Then he saw it perilously close to his landing area, a humanoid form. He squinted through the dust as he ran. He wanted to call her name, but he could not risk it, he did not know if there were any close by to overhear. He slid to a stop, put his hand on her shoulder but she did not respond. Urgently he reached for her other shoulder and tugged her into a sitting position, or at least attempted to, he gave an involuntary groan as he recognized the full rigor mortis of a person long dead. Cursing the dust he wiped the face free and saw it was a Klingon female. He laid her back quickly but gently and sprang to his feet. Now the dust was clearing somewhat and he was assaulted with the smell of putrescence. He squinted and twisted around, he was in a field of death, there had to be hundreds of bodies of every species imaginable here, all dead, rotting, all covered in white.

He choked involuntarily. 

(One hundred and eighty nine seconds.) 

He quickly pulled out his tricorder and his fingers flew over it as he set in the parameters to scan for Trill life signs, furious with himself for not having done this in the shuttle, though he had no way of knowing that he was going to be searching a charnel field for her.

(One hundred and seventy one seconds.)

He started the devise scanning, but it was not picking up any life. He swore a Klingon oath that Jadzia would have been impressed at. It had to be that the dust was somehow interfering with his scans. He refused to consider the possibility that he might have the wrong location, or, that he could be too late.

(One hundred fifty five.)

Still there was nothing, he began running now, stepping around the bodies as best he could, eyes never off the scanner, there was no pattern to his run, it was a desperate race against time to cover as much ground as he could. Once he stumbled over a limb and fell, his tricorder sliding a few feet away, his fingers clawed and scratched at it as he fought to regain his footing. He did not look down to see what has caused him to fall.  
Once he had it in his hands he was elated to see it was still functional,

(One hundred forty one)

He began to whirl on his heel, desperately making sweeps when there was a green light and a soft beep.  
In that instant everything in the world stopped, shrank and became consolidated into that one light, that one sound.  
He took off at a run to the farther end of the field, where next to a rock, in partial shade he could see the dusty colors of a Starfleet uniform. His breath was coming out in gasping sobs and he ran closer to her, the reading his tricorder was giving off was weak, much too weak, but still, he had found Jadzia Dax.

(One hundred two)

As a doctor he had a theoretical knowledge of severe starvation, he had read very scholarly papers and even thought about writing a few. But he was completely unprepared for the reality. The shock was not only the dismay of seeing his good friend in such a position, but the horror of realizing firsthand how depraved others could be. The gaunt figure in front of him almost bore no resemblance to the Jadzia Dax he knew, it was more of a stick figure, she was shaking, and her ribs were prominent with pronounced valleys in-between seen beneath the sheds of the uniform that hung about her. Her knees were swollen; highlighting the thin bones under, the only certain identification was the spots and the large blue eyes. Those he would know anywhere. In a second he had closed the space between them and was by her side, his hands touching her arm lightly, afraid of damaging her. She turned and looked at him, there was no light shining from her eyes, she just was. He was not sure she even recognized him.

“Oh, Jadzia,

“He whispered feeling overwhelmed by guilt that he managed to come though captivity in relative good health. He pulled her into his arms, she went limp. Her leathery skin was flaking and peeling, most of her spots seemed to have disappeared, bright pink wrinkled skin leaving testament to them having sloughed off. It was almost a relief she was unconscious, he did not want to think of the pain she was suffering from her peeling skin. Her tongue was turning slightly brown, with thick fuzz beginning to form, as sweet, alcoholic smell to her labored breath.

(Eighty four)

There was no time to asses her injuries, to give reassurances.  
He scooped her up in his arms like a child and sprinted through the corpse toward the shuttle. A few time he stumbled heavily as he encountered an obstacle, but he never stopped running.

(Fifty nine)

He was almost there now.

(Fifty five)

The door opened. He ran in and hurriedly strapped Jadzia to the seat to keep her safe during takeoff. Almost anywhere he touched the thin fragile skin tore and bled, leaving Julian’s hands slick as the fumbled with the buckles.

(Twenty)

He hit the control panel bringing it to life as it prepared to take off. He fastened his seatbelt and hit the final button in the ignition sequence and the shuttle began to rise.

(Eleven)

He exhaled. He had done it. Now he had to reach orbit and put a sufficient distance between him and the planet, ands it mass transport drones.  
As he made the necessary course corrections he kept looking over at Jadzia, but nothing changed, she was still slumped in her seat unconscious. 

“Hurry up, Hurry up!” he willed the shuttle, speaking aloud in his impatience. 

The shuttle bumped and groaned as he pushed it to its limits, then began shaking, and finally, they were in orbit. Julian set in the course in the auto nav, then unstrapped himself and went to Jadzia’s side, Very carefully, so as to not damage her skin more he unfastened her and wrapped her in a blanket and laid her down on the floor. She was so cold it frightened him; although he knew Trill physiology ran cooler he knew this was at dangerous levels.

“Computer, raise internal temperature by fifteen degrees.”

He pulled out another blanket and covered her with it. Then a soft whirring filled the shuttle as he ran the tricorder over her. The results were chilling. Jadzia was near death, so close in fact that Julian was not sure he could pull her back.   
She was in an advanced state of catabolysis, the process of a body breaking down its own muscles and other tissues in order to keep vital systems such as the nervous system and heart functioning. Vitamin deficiency, a common result of starvation, often leading to anemia and beriberi, was pronounced. He knew that these diseases collectively could also cause diarrhea, skin rashes, edema, and at worst, heart failure.   
Quickly he grabbed a bag of compatible IV fluid and inserted the needle. His frustration began to mount; there were so many more ways he could help if he only had access to proper medical supplies.

Now that he had the time to fully asses her injuries he was appalled, he knew that she was vulnerable to starvation and dehydration being a trill, but he was unprepared for this, there was so much devastation ravishing her body. He fumbled with trying to keep the IV bag elevated, finally clipping it on the back of a seat. The next thing to be addressed was cleaning the infected wounds on her body. It would have been so much easier if he had his sterilizer, but all he had was water and sterilization. 

The first thing he had to do was get surgical scissors and cut off her uniform from her back, it had become crusted over with dried blood and infection, it was necessary to use some warm water to loosen the fabric, her skin was so delicate that if he were to pull too hard in trying to remove it he might well tear her skin further.  
He pushed all emotion deep inside himself; he could not afford the luxury of emotion.

He had to be swift and clinical, once the fabric had been removed he began the labor intensive task of cleaning the wounds, dispassionately he noted that she had been subjected to multiple beatings, some lacerations were fresher than others. When he had cleaned one he would use the dermal regenerator to heal and close the wound, then progress to the next. He looked up to check the IV and noticed that it was almost empty; he quickly set up another one.

Once her back was completed he turned his attention to the symbiont , it was weak, clearly in distress, dying, really. But there was nothing he could do. If he removed it would certainly die, if he left it in there was always the chance that Jadzia’s body could sustain it. A slim chance, one that seemed more tenuous every passing moment. The worst of her wounds treated he began to apply salve to every part of her body that he could reach at the moment. The skin under his hands seemed more reptilian than humanoid at the moment it was so dry.  
It was frustratingly slow, he could only use the lightest touch and even then Jadzia began to moan fitfully from the pain, her eyelids quivered as she approached consciousness. Julian sped up his ministrations wanting to be done by the time she fully regained consciousness.


	5. Fading

The suns shimmered as the heat rose and shimmered off of the ground. It played cruel tricks with the bodies, causing them to appear to move as if living. Sunrise came suddenly here but it was quiet, the dead rested peacefully at last.

 

The silence was disturbed by a sound of rushing wind; white dust billowed up fogging the landscape and partially covering the bodies, a fine film of dust that acted as a shroud to the corpses as a shuttle set down.

Hours earlier the runabout had been procured from salvage yard by two figures, but instead of the exchange of latinum the older of the two had handed off a stack of papers. They were taken with eagerness and quickly hidden under a uniform, then carefully skirting a Breen guard Julian had been taken to the shuttle. There was no time for more than a curt nod to his host before he was inside and powering up the engines. There was only a very limited window in which to achieve orbit while the sensor grid was down. That had cost him another sizable stack of his finely printed papers.

Bashir's face was tense and lined as he took off, constantly checking the controls for any sign he had been detected, but surprisingly he achieved orbit with no sign of pursuit.

Now was the hard part, he had to stay on the dark side of the moon to avoid sensor sweeps, it would be four long hours before he was supposed to get the signal to initiate landing on the hunk of rock .

Now that he had powered down there was nothing to do but wait. The darkness outside the shuttle pressed in on him making him feel isolated, alone.

He leaned his lanky form back and closed his eyes, battling with himself, trying to justify his actions.

'No one had to find out about it though, he rationalized, hadn't he been successful at keeping his genetic enhancements secret, was this so much more different?'

'Yes, he answered back with unflinching honesty, this was much, much different.'

His breath frosted in the air and he shivered as the shuttle grew cold, it was on minimal life support mode and the temperature would only continue to drop. Not enough to endanger him, but certainly cooler than was comfortable.

He took a deep shuddering breath, unbidden the memory of the purple scrap of cloth blowing in the dust surfaced. He grimaced.

That was what had set this betrayal in motion, a piece of purple cloth, or rather what the purple cloth had represented just a few seconds earlier.

It had been a person, a living breathing entity, clad in the medical garb of the hospital Joissa worked at, he brought news of Jadzia. He had seemed nervous when he had pulled Julian aside as he walked home from the hospital after a day of working.

He claimed he was a friend of Joissa's, and that he could tell him where Jadzia had been detained. She was on a labor detail on an asteroid. Something that people did not survive for more than a few weeks at the most, he also had managed to give the location of the runabout before a energy weapon connected with the man's back, the informant arched, his mouth open in a split second of agony before he seemed to fold upon himself and vanish, leaving only a scrap of dusty purple cloth as a sign he had lived.

Bashir had tensed and sprung behind a tree, but to his surprise there had been no signs that he was being targeted, no soldiers looming above him where he crouched. Disoriented he had stood back up, looking down the street, there was no sign of the murder. Just a chattering group of shoppers farther down the street, either unaware or ignoring the incident that had just happened.

After standing there collecting his thoughts exposed in the street in full view of anyone who might be waiting to attack him, he entered his hosts dwelling, a plan was forming, he did not share the news of the coworkers death, there was a far more important matter occupying his mind.

After a time of mental turmoil he had set his course, the only thing that remained was to enact the plan, and break almost every rule in Starfleet…

Bashir shook his head and ruffled his hair. He had been precise. Writing out schematics to various medical devises, the formula to achieve a pollydurinite a substance that made everything from chairs and Dabo tables to wall panels. Vaccines and medications to numerous to mention. Tricorder schematics, Even basic replicator technology. In effect, everything that he thought would be valuable information.

Except weapons. Never weapons. He pushed aside the knowledge that much of the information he had given could be stepping stones to advanced tactical applications. Medicine formulas for painless sedation could be easily concentrated and used as a poison… He had in effect given the Crina technology over a decade more advanced than they were ready for. Maybe more.

He tried to argue it was not as much of a violation of the prime directive at it seemed since the Breen had obviously been doing the same thing selectively for at least a decade.

But it did little to assuage his guilt at what he had done, though, given the choice he knew he would do it all over again to be able to reach Jadzia. He had used the papers as his currency to get what he needed. The Crina were eager for new technology, he could sense a undercurrent of unease at their unequal playing field with the Breen, They were on a unequal footing with the Breen, with the Breen becoming dangerously close to the line of being an 'occupying force'.

And there was a percentage of them that were trying to find ways to stop the encroaching species, they were eager for technology, for anything that might give them more of an even footing.

He found his papers to be wildly valuable, more than he had hoped they would be. Enough to secure his ship, ensure certain well timed malfunctions of the detection grids, and have Jadzia removed to a secluded location away from the work camp.

He would have liked to have had more medical supplies, but only the most basic supplies were procurable from the hospital. And those mostly consisted of liquid nutrients, thermal blankets and a few pillows and bandages. He would have to rely on the Starfleet issue medical supplies for the rest and hope they were enough. Luckily he had found them still intact, the shuttle had, to his surprise, not been scavenged. He even retained his tricorder.

It would have to be enough. During the time he waited he spent his time going over Trill physiology, he knew that effects of malnutrition and dehydration would be greatly accelerated. He sat on the edge of the seat, nervously jiggling his leg as he waited for the time to pass. His heart was racing and he was radiating nervous energy.

Then he got up and went to the back of the runabout preparing the crew quarters to serve as a medical unit. He replicated several bags of T.14 saline solution, the kind suitable for Trill physiology. He pulled out whatever he thought would be needed.

It frustrated him that he knew so little of what to expect of her condition. It could be almost anything, he did not like that, he dealt in certainties, facts, solid things that could be measured. Uncertainty was, uncomfortable.

It was almost intolerable to be waiting this long.

He also put together a quick bag of supplies and brought it to the front of the runabout, there was every chance that Jadzia could need immediate help, that he would not be in a position to run back and forth between the runabout controls and the medical quarters.

 

But at last, there was a soft beeping indicating that the timer had started, He sprang into motion, he had nine minutes to land, pick up Jadzia and then reach orbit, after that the grid would reactivate and he would be detected.

Nine minutes seemed tight when he factored in two minutes to land and three to take off, leaving him two hundred and forty seconds to locate and secure her in the shuttle.

But what was the use of being genetically enhanced if he could not depend on his superior analytical skills and speed? Surely they had to make some sort of a difference.

The runabout whirred to life and began its accent, when finding the exact coordinates he set down, thick white dust billowed around the shuttle making it hard to see as he landed. He cursed, he could not afford the precious seconds that reduced visibility could cost him.

(Two hundred and thirty two seconds.)He mentally counted.

He sprang out the shuttle as soon as the door opened, choking on the powder fine particulates. Then he saw it perilously close to his landing area, a humanoid form. He squinted through the dust as he ran. He wanted to call her name, but he could not risk it, he did not know if there were any close by to overhear. He slid to a stop, put his hand on her shoulder but she did not respond. Urgently he reached for her other shoulder and tugged her into a sitting position, or at least attempted to, he gave an involuntary groan as he recognized the full rigor mortis of a person long dead. Cursing the dust he wiped the face free and saw it was a Klingon female. He laid her back quickly but gently and sprang to his feet. Now the dust was clearing somewhat and he was assaulted with the smell of putrescence. He squinted and twisted around, he was in a field of death, there had to be hundreds of bodies of every species imaginable here, all dead, rotting, all covered in white.

He choked involuntarily.

(One hundred and eighty nine seconds.)

He quickly pulled out his tricorder and his fingers flew over it as he set in the parameters to scan for Trill life signs, furious with himself for not having done this in the shuttle, though he had no way of knowing that he was going to be searching a charnel field for her.

(One hundred and seventy one seconds.)

He started the devise scanning, but it was not picking up any life. He swore a Klingon oath that Jadzia would have been impressed at. It had to be that the dust was somehow interfering with his scans. He refused to consider the possibility that he might have the wrong location, or, that he could be too late.

(One hundred fifty five.)

Still there was nothing, he began running now, stepping around the bodies as best he could, eyes never off the scanner, there was no pattern to his run, it was a desperate race against time to cover as much ground as he could. Once he stumbled over a limb and fell, his tricorder sliding a few feet away, his fingers clawed and scratched at it as he fought to regain his footing. He did not look down to see what has caused him to fall.

Once he had it in his hands he was elated to see it was still functional,

(One hundred forty one)

He began to whirl on his heel, desperately making sweeps when there was a green light and a soft beep. His heart began to thud against his chest.

In that instant everything in the world stopped, shrank and became consolidated into that one light, that one sound.

He took off at a run to the farther end of the field, where next to a rock, in partial shade he could see the dusty colors of a Starfleet uniform. His breath was coming out in gasping sobs and he ran closer to her, the reading his tricorder was giving off was weak, much too weak, but still, he had found Jadzia Dax.

(One hundred two)

As a doctor he had a theoretical knowledge of severe starvation, he had read very scholarly papers and even thought about writing a few. But he was completely unprepared for the reality. The shock was not only the dismay of seeing his good friend in such a position, but the horror of realizing firsthand how depraved others could be. The gaunt figure in front of him almost bore no resemblance to the Jadzia Dax he knew, it was more of a stick figure, she was shaking, and her ribs were prominent with pronounced valleys in-between seen beneath the sheds of the uniform that hung about her. Her knees were swollen; highlighting the thin bones under, the only certain identification was the spots and the large blue eyes. Those he would know anywhere. In a second he had closed the space between them and was by her side, his hands touching her arm lightly, afraid of damaging her. She looked at him, there was no light shining from her eyes, she just was. He was not sure she even recognized him.

"Oh, Jadzia, "He whispered feeling overwhelmed by guilt that he managed to come though captivity in relative good health. He pulled her into his arms, she went limp. Her leathery skin was flaking and peeling, most of her spots seemed to have disappeared, bright pink wrinkled skin leaving testament to them having sloughed off. It was almost a relief she was unconscious, he did not want to think of the pain she was suffering from her peeling skin. Her tongue was turning slightly brown, with thick fuzz beginning to form, as sweet, alcoholic smell to her labored breath.

(Eighty four)

There was no time to asses her injuries, to give reassurances.

He scooped her up in his arms like a child and sprinted through the corpse toward the shuttle. A few time he stumbled heavily as he encountered an obstacle, but he never stopped running.

(Fifty nine)

He was almost there now.

(Fifty five)

The door opened. He ran in and hurriedly strapped Jadzia to the seat to keep her safe during takeoff. Almost anywhere he touched the thin fragile skin tore and bled, leaving Julian's hands slick as he fumbled with the buckles.

(Twenty)

He hit the control panel bringing it to life as it prepared to take off. He fastened his seatbelt and hit the final button in the ignition sequence and the shuttle began to rise.

(Eleven)

He exhaled. He had done it. Now he had to reach orbit and put a sufficient distance between him and the planet, and its mass transport drones.

As he made the necessary course corrections he kept looking over at Jadzia, but nothing changed, she was still slumped in her seat unconscious.

"Hurry up, Hurry up!" he willed the shuttle, speaking aloud in his impatience. The shuttle bumped and groaned as he pushed it to its limits, then began shaking, and finally, they were in orbit. Julian set in the course in the auto nav, then unstrapped himself and went to Jadzia's side, Very carefully, so as to not damage her skin more he unfastened her and wrapped her in a blanket and laid her down on the floor behind the pilots seat. She was so cold it frightened him; although he knew Trill physiology ran cooler than human, this was at dangerous levels.

"Computer, raise internal temperature by fifteen degrees."

He pulled out another blanket and covered her with it. Then a soft whirring filled the shuttle as he ran the tricorder over her. The results were chilling. Jadzia was near death, so close in fact that Julian was not sure he could pull her back.

She was in an advanced state of catabolysis, the process of a body breaking down its own muscles and other tissues in order to keep vital systems such as the nervous system and heart functioning. Vitamin deficiency, a common result of starvation, often leading to anemia and beriberi, was pronounced. He knew that these diseases collectively could also cause diarrhea, skin rashes, edema, and at worst, heart failure.

Quickly he grabbed a bag of compatible IV fluid and inserted the needle. His frustration began to mount; there were so many more ways he could help if he only had access to proper medical supplies.

Now that he had the time to fully asses her injuries he was appalled, he knew that she was vulnerable to starvation and dehydration being a Trill, but he was unprepared for this, there was so much devastation ravishing her body. He fumbled with trying to keep the IV bag elevated, finally clipping it on the back of a seat. The next thing to be addressed was cleaning the infected wounds on her body. It would have been so much easier if he had his auto-sterilizer, but all he had was water and sterilization fluid.

The first thing he had to do was get surgical scissors and cut off her uniform from her back, it had become crusted over with dried blood and infection, it was necessary to use some warm water to loosen the fabric, her skin was so delicate that if he were to pull too hard in trying to remove it he might well tear her skin further.

He pushed all emotion deep inside himself; he could not afford the luxury of emotion.

He had to be swift and clinical, once the fabric had been removed he began the labor intensive task of cleaning the wounds, dispassionately he noted that she had been subjected to multiple beatings, some lacerations were fresher than others. When he had cleaned one he would use the dermal regenerator to heal and close the wound, then progress to the next. He looked up to check the IV and noticed that it was almost empty; he quickly set up another one.

Once her back was completed he turned his attention to the symbiont , it was weak, clearly in distress, dying, really. But there was nothing he could do. If he removed it would certainly die, if he left it in there was always the chance that Jadzia's body could sustain it. A slim chance, one that seemed more tenuous every passing moment. The worst of her wounds treated he began to apply salve to every part of her body that he could reach at the moment. The skin under his hands seemed more reptilian than humanoid at the moment it was so dry and scaly. It was frustratingly slow, he could only use the lightest touch and even then Jadzia began to moan fitfully from the pain, her eyelids quivered as she approached consciousness. Julian sped up his ministrations wanting to be done by the time she fully regained consciousness.


	6. Saved

Impact, by Ivycat.

Jadzia's return to conscience was reluctant and confused. She struggled to open her eyes but it was too painful, with the slightest whimper she resigned to be in the dark. She was disoriented and confused, it seemed as if she had been lying abandoned, quietly dying, then after an interminable period of suffering there were not one, but two Julian's bending over her, but, it was not true, because there were no men on the planet.

Time seemed to go by much too slowly, she felt hands on her, all over her, and where they had been there was an easing of the pain. The pain that she had almost forgotten she had. This was a pleasant dream, on that she hoped that she could dwell in for a while.

She felt sharp pain in one of her arms that was not unusual though, she had pain and cramps in all of her limbs now. But this was different, sharper, focused. She thought about trying to move her arm to get away from the feeling but then drifted off into grayness. She could not focus on anything; her thoughts seemed intangible and wandering. She felt as if she was rotated, she was swept with vertigo, if she had anything at all in her stomach she would have vomited.

Then it began a ripping sawing pain across her back, and then the agony of having her back treated. She wanted to scream, to attack her persecutor who refused to allow her to slip quietly away into oblivion and death. She was so close, she could feel it. She longed for it, it was the only chance of relief she had now.

(But, wait, was she sure she wanted to die?)

Jadzia was confused, something felt so wrong, there was something inside her that desired her to live.

No, that was not right. It could not be. It was time…

Then stinging, her eyes were stinging horribly; there was a drip, drip, drip on her eyes that bothered her more than she could endure. What new torture were her captors using? She tried to move her head, but her body refused to work, she was a prisoner trapped inside her own body.

She felt a surge of anger, then it quickly faded, she did not want to be angry, angry was an emotion too close to living.

There was a pressure on her eye, as if something was being softly rubbed on, then again on the other eye.

(Be angry.)

She was so tired.

She felt as if she were hovering over her body, almost as if she were a spectator.

She could see herself lying out in a spread eagle position on the promenade. There were people bustling all around, raucous laughter from Quark's, but no one paused to ask why she was laying out in the middle of the corridor. Kira and O'Brian walked by arguing over something.

Benjamin was walking towards the holosuites with a bat.

Then she heard Julian's voice. He was looking for her. But as she thought of sitting up and calling to him that she was there, something strange began to happen, she seemed to shrink, at first it was almost imperceptibly, then more rapidly till she was fading to the size of a pin, then, she vanished.

So tired. She was so tired.

(No )

 

Suddenly, just as he was finishing up putting ointment on Jadzia's eyes, his tricorder went off shrilly, its readings flashing in red.

Her heartbeat became even weaker and more erratic as it struggled to keep up with the demands of the body. Then her body began to seize.

With only the slightest tremor the doctor inserted glucose in the hypospray and depressed it into her neck. The effect was almost immediate, her muscles relaxed and the spasmodic movements stilled.

The seizure treated his main focus was on her heart, it was beating far too irregularly, he loaded another medicine in the hypospray and administered it to her, but there was no improvement.

Then the tricorder beeped louder, and then settled to a long tone.

Julian began chest compressions counting off in his head, and then switched to one hand as he fumbled with the cardio-stimulator. He applied it and activated it; there was a twitch from the body as the current pulsed through it, then the heart stabilized in to a stronger rhythm. With a sigh he leaned back on his haunches for a moment in relief, and then began scanning again. Her isoboramine levels were critically low.

It was common knowledge in the medical community, starvation, lack of food did not kill, it was the heart failing from atrophy of the heart muscles. That was the most present danger, cardiac arrest.

Though with Trill physiology the low isoboramine could cause death as well.

He went back to the medical quarters and brought back some of the neurotransmitter enhancer he had replicated. He administered it then watched the readout anxiously, there was no noticeable improvement and his brow furrowed further.

There was a beeping from the console, he swore, he could not afford to leave her, what if she had another cardiac event? But, it would be worse if they were recaptured.

He made another course correction, at warp five he knew it could be a while before he reached the station, unless they had received word from the planet that they were missing. This task done he bent over Jadzia and picked her up, carrying her to the back and placing her on the bunk. He was able to cover her more securely and attached another bag of T.14 saline.

She was pitifully light in his arms he had noticed.

Just then the runabout began to shake and shudder, Julian turned and sprinted to the front having to grab the seat as there was a jolt and the shuttle dropped out of warp.

Despite his engineering extension course he was at loss as to what caused the warp field to destabilize. He groaned, at this rate it would be weeks till he arrived home. Then with further investigation he detected multiple sub-space inversion fields that collapsed the warp field. Doing a long range scan he was frustrated to see there were a quite a few, they extended father than the range of his scanners. This was bad news, this meant he would have to drop to a lower warp and make multiple course corrections during the flight.

Great, this was just what he needed in addition to a dying crew member, a shuttle who could not be left on auto nav.

Setting course again at maximum impulse he scanned all the instruments, other than the warp malfunction everything seemed to be in working order. That was good; it meant that nothing else had been affected by the anomaly.

He made his way back to the back, Jadzia was the same as when he had left, he sighed and pulled up a chair, all he could do was support her body as best he could as it fought to hold on to the spark of life it had.

He checked her vitals and IV, everything was stable.

Ever so carefully he reached out and took her hand, careful not to damage her skin.

He looked at it; there was noticeable edema so he began to carefully massage the hand in an attempt to reduce the swelling.

It was so hard seeing her like this, so helpless and frail.

Without even thinking about it he began talking.

"I am right here; I won't give up on you Jadzia. You are going to pull through this, I know it seems hard right now, but it will get better I promise. Hold on. You hear me? Hold on. I won't give up, no matter how much it takes.

You just have to keep breathing, so easy really, one breath after the other, see? You are already doing it!

Oh, Jadzia, I am so sorry, so sorry I was not able to protect you. You have to fight, you are strong, I know you can do it…

Jadzia, forgive me… "His voice broke for a moment.

Then he took her other hand and began to massage it.

"You really have no choice, Jadzia, if there is one thing I am known for it is persistence. So you are going to pull through this. Besides, if anything happened to you it would haunt me for the rest of my life, and you know it. I also know you would never be as cruel to me as that. Not to mention I am not sure how much my life would be worth if I returned to DS9 without you, I think Garak would be more popular, and that is a scary thought indeed."

He lost track of time as he babbled to her, trying to distract himself from his worry.

He was not even sure what he was saying anymore, it just seemed somehow important that he not stop talking.

"… are going to make it through this together, and long after I am gone you will still be going on living out your lives. Just keep holding on for me."

Then it happened, there was a flexing of her fingers, instantly he was bending over her.

"Jadzia? Can you hear me?"

There was a fluttering of her eyes, and then slowly they opened and looked up at him.

She tried to say something but no sound came from her brown discolored lips. The motion had caused them to crack and bleed again.

"Shh, shh, don't try and talk."

He went to the box of medical supplies behind him and brought back some supplies.

"Now, if you will just hold on a second this will be fixed up in no time."

He applied a tube of ointment to her lips.

"Now, we will let that set for a few minutes then I will fix that right up with the dermal regenerator."

"Alright, now, this may not be pleasant, but it will make you feel much better soon. Okay, I need you to open your mouth for me a bit."

He waited but there was no response.

"Jadzia, I need you to open your mouth, can you understand me?"

Still there was no response; her eyes were open, but not really focusing on him anymore.

With a sigh he reached his gloved hands up and gently grasped her jaw and opened it, and then with the other hand he swabbed her mouth with a viscous liquid, paying particular attention to her furred tongue.

This resulted in a slight reaction from her as she seemed to be trying to turn her head away from him.

"No, hold still now, I have to get this tended to, Jadzia."

He persisted in swabbing the anti-fungal agent all around her mouth, later he would have to give her oral medicine to treat the condition in her esophagus, and it would cause her extreme pain to swallow or talk till it was taken care of.

That done he pulled of his gloves after discarding the swab.

He leaned over her smiling and put one hand on her cold cheek.

"Well, now, I am glad you decided to join me. I was not looking forward to the trip back to Deep Space Nine alone."

"I am sure you have questions, but it is important you rest and conserve you strength. I managed to get you out of the labor camp and back onto the runabout, now we are on our way back, and everything is going to be fine. Do you understand me Jadzia? You are safe now."

With no sign that she understood her eyelids drifted shut.

His lips tightened he got up and replaced her bag yet again. He was not seeing the results he would have anticipated with all of the fluids she was getting. But then there was so little information on Trill's, and if there were any guides on how to rehydrate a dying host it was safely on Trill, though he doubted it, a host as ill as Jadzia would have her symbiont removed quickly and she would have been let die. Surrounded by care and people making sure she felt no pain, but still, condemned to death.

His hand clenched the dermal regenerator at the thought as he ran it over the parched skin of her lips. It was against everything he had been taught to treat a life as disposable, but that was exactly how a host was regarded on Trill, honored, held in very high esteem, but ultimately expendable. As foreign as it was to him he had seen Jadzia herself display the same belief, her life was inconsequential to that of Dax.

 

But He was Julian and he did not give a damn about Trill priorities at this time. There would never be the option of letting Jadzia die.

From the distance there was a continual humming, it was indistinct, but somehow it was comforting, reassuring to hear it.

(Hold on.)

She did not want to hold on.

She was not sure where she was. She knew she was not dead, that she was not on the planet any longer, but the rest was confusion.

"Oh Jadzia, come back to me."

The humming was beginning to take form into words. But this could not be real; this must be a dream…

"I need you Jadzia," the voice whispered.

It seemed that she was on the other side of a river waiting to cross, or was the voice coming to her?

It was hard, so hard, but she felt that she had to respond to the voice.

(Wake up.)

She fought it, but slowly inexorably she felt herself being pulled across the river that separated her from pain.

"…long after I am gone you will still be going on living out your lives. Just keep holding on for me."

She knew the voice. Julian Bashir.

He was alive then. How? Her thoughts were muddled and confused. Her eyes opened, the light was excruciating, it was too bright, she tried to turn her head away but again her body did not respond to her command.

She tried to say his name, but no sounds came from her mouth. Her throat hurt at the attempt. He was bending close over her telling her not to talk. He was smiling, but his eyes were grave.

He applied something to her lips that stung.

Then she heard him from a distance, he wanted something. She was confused; she did know what he wanted. She was so tired…

Then she felt his hand on her, guiding her mouth open. It was bitter, stinging, no burning. She mustered up every ounce of strength she had to try and fight him off. It was a fruitless endeavor.

(Don't fight.)

She was helpless to resist, when he was done he placed his hand on her face and smiled at her again, she was fading, she had used all of her strength to try and fight him off. He was speaking. For some reason it seemed important that she pay attention. These words meant something important. She tried to focus, but despite herself her eyes shut. But even as she slid into the grayness she held on to the sound of his voice.

( Maybe she should not go into the consuming darkness after all...)

(Live.)

Where were these thoughts coming from? It was not her; she was ready to stop fighting.

Suddenly in a tiny instance of clarity she recognized the person sending her those thoughts.

Dax.

Then, with the last of her strength she tightened her fingers over the warm hand that had grasped hers. It was a pitifully weak grasp, more of a twitch really, but it was significant, more than the person holding her hand knew as he ever so lightly responded to her grasp. It was significant because in that moment, Jadzia Dax decided to live.

 

Many thanks to GeorgieGinger who helped beta for me!


End file.
